


Makes Them Stronger.

by diemarysues



Series: What Doesn't Kill You [3]
Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makes Them Stronger.

Benji stares at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the tiles. He’d expected to wake up partially high on painkillers and hooked up to ten different machines. Or, maybe to be in pain, but somehow alive because Jane and/or Ethan had saved his and Will’s arses.

 

But no. He’s currently hooked up to only the one monitor. It beeps quietly, recording his heartbeat off his forefinger. He’s alone in a small, clean hospital room (or what he assumes is a hospital room) – which, due to its lack of windows, is making him slightly claustrophobic. Most worrying is the fact that he can’t seem to find any injury on his person, other than bone-deep weariness.

 

Despite the best efforts of whoever it was keeping him here, Benji knew _something_ was amiss. He’d espied the date on the nurse’s watch when she’d been unhooking whatever brain machine Benji had been connected to. So either he’s been unconscious for forty-two days, or he’s missing more than a few memories. He’s got several theories drawn up, either way.

 

Unfortunately for him, he’s too weak to get out of bed or to sit up, even. A moot point, seeing as the door doesn’t have a knob or handle on this end – lending some weight to Theory #7.

 

Benji slowly rotates his ankles, bitterly cursing his inability to test whichever one he’d sprained – it may’ve been healed, but he doesn’t know if it’s at full strength. Not if he’s been in bed this whole time.

 

While he’s at it, he recites his times tables. Wonders why it feels like déjà vu.

 

He’s on the thirteens when the door swings open. He ignores the man in the white coat for the moment, managing to catch sight of someone standing guard outside his room. Benji’s mouth tightens when the door latch clicks.

 

“Mr. Dunn,” says the doctor, “it may come as a surprise to you, but you’ve been unconscious for more than a month.”

 

Benji isn’t surprised, in fact. He just scraps theories #3 and #8.

 

“Now, it’s good that you’re taking this well,” he continues cheerfully. “Especially considering what happened…earlier. We think it’s best you be debriefed a little later – preferably after a psych evaluation.”

 

Benji knows better than to take that as confirmation that he’s with IMF operatives, but it does make it more likely than him being a prisoner. The doctor doesn’t seem to be exhibiting the usual tics of a liar, at any rate.

 

“Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree,” Benji says. His voice is dry and cracked, but he’d been given water earlier. It’s not as bad as it could’ve been.

 

The doctor’s eyes widen. “He’s meeting three hyenas for tea.” Scratching the back of his head, he says, “I’m sorry, we didn’t realise that you’d need to be –”

 

“Reassured?” Benji tries to smile, but his muscles don’t _quite_ cooperate.

 

He’s given an odd half-shrug. “Something like that. Now, Mr. Dunn, this is important. You’ve been bedridden for over a month. We need to get you back on your feet, but it’s going to be difficult – at best. Do you understand?”

 

Benji nods slowly.

 

“Now, just let me…” the doctor trails off as he approaches the bed. He helps Benji sit up (a battle, as it turned out, and one filled with agony), then goes on with the usual doctorly duties. Benji’s body feels simultaneously oversensitive and numb. Even as he’s eased back to supine position, he can still feel the cold spot on his back where the doctor’d pressed his stethoscope to.

 

The doctor says something.

 

“What?” Benji asks, blinking blearily. When had he closed his eyes?

 

“I’m going to get two nurses to help you bathe.”

 

“‘M not gonna b’ consc’s soon,” he slurs in response, desperately holding onto the last threads of wakefulness.

 

He shrugs. “You don’t have to be. Just wanted to warn you, in case you woke up and panicked about being clean.” He grins crookedly and raps on the door twice – and Benji wonders what had happened that he can’t remember.

 

He wonders what he’d done.

 

The door opens and closes. It takes too long for Benji to realise that the doctor had referred to him as ‘Mr.’ Dunn.

 

_Fuck_ , he thinks as his eyelids slip closed.

 

_Not good_.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

The woman opposite Benji has white hair. He isn’t sure if it’s dyed or naturally white, and doesn’t ask.

 

She also has a large picture of a unicorn on the wall behind her desk. He doesn’t ask about that either.

 

“Mr. Dunn, I’m Agent Winter. You can call me Elina, if you want. Nice to meet you – and, yes, I did dye my hair. I think it makes me look younger.” She smiles at him somewhat expectantly.

 

“Er. Nice to meet you too.”

 

She nods. “Now then, formalities out of the way, I think.” Elina props her head on her hand and shifts forward in her seat. “I only really have one question: what the Hell were you thinking?”

 

Benji automatically bristles. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Agent Winter.”

 

Rolling her eyes, she says, “You’re not in a romantic relationship with Agent Brandt, is that correct?”

 

_What_? “What?”

 

“Is that correct?”

 

“Yes,” he answers, frowning. “Yes, that’s correct.”

 

“But you, what? Fuck occasionally?”

 

He’s far too affronted to wonder how she knows that. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her smile is thin. “Why haven’t you told him you love him?”

 

“Am I in relationship counselling?” Benji asks bewilderedly. “Is that why I’m here? Because if it is, I’m going to leave.”

 

“If it was relationship counselling, then Agent Brandt would be here. I just want answers.”

 

He considers, briefly, not answering. He considers walking out. Then he considers who and what these people are. He slumps and rubs the side of his face with his left hand. “We agreed on it being no-strings-attached.”  
  


“And things changed, on his part. Yours as well.” Elina crosses her arms as she leans back in her chair. “What happened?”

 

“He…saved Ethan’s life.” Benji smiles slightly, eyes downcast as he remembers. “I wasn’t even there, I heard about the whole thing later. When I realised how I, er, how I felt, it was… It was like getting tasered.”

 

“You know what it’s like to be tasered?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

 

“Not important.” But really, he can’t seem to come up with a better analogy for his sudden awareness of having fallen in love. Debilitating physical pain came the closest. Even now, just talking about it, his heart is somersaulting in his chest and bruising his lungs. The floor of his mouth is _aching_.

 

“No, you’re right. What _is_ important is that you’re on probation. Has it been explained to you why?”

 

“Boris said it was because of my being out of it for longer than necessary.”

 

“Crude explanation.” She sighs and uncrosses her arms. “IMF doesn’t care if team members fuck each other, or if they date, or get married, or whatever the hell they want. It’s when your work is affected that we get…concerned.”

 

Benji shoots her a sardonic glance. “Concerned is a nice way of putting it.”

 

“I’m nice.” Elina’s smile is anything but, though. “Look. Even if Agent Hunt didn’t stick his neck out for you and Agent Brandt, the two of you are enough of an asset – individually and as part of a team – for IMF to give you a bit of leeway.” When she pulls out some paper from a drawer, Benji notices that all her pens are of the glitter gel variety.

 

All of them.

 

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing.

 

“Your psych report.” She flips through the sheaf of paper. “There’s a comparison here, between your mental health before and after passing your field exam. And then this –” she taps a yellow manila folder on her desk “– is the report after you woke up.”

 

She ignores him for a few moments, until he clears his throat. “…and?”

 

“And – look. Benji – can I call you Benji? – I’ll be blunt. There’s only one way you’re going to get out of this without either side losing. It’s not going to be pretty, but it’s the only deal we’re going to offer. One last chance.” Elina licked her upper lip. “You’re free to walk out now, if you think it’ll be a waste of your time. Or you can sit here and listen.”

 

One last chance. “I’ll listen.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He doesn’t like the deal, when she explains it to him. But he takes it.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

 

“What the hell is this?”

 

Benji wants to close his eyes and disappear. A fierce realist, though, he just looks up at Will. “It’s my office.”

 

Will points a long finger at him. “Don’t.” He looks tired. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since their capture. Benji’s chest aches at the sight of the other man – all he wants to do is to take Will into his arms, to run his fingers through that brown hair, to kiss those lips. All he can do is stare.

 

Lacking the space to pace, although Will looks like he dearly wants to, the agent sits in the only free chair. “Why are you here?”

 

Benji puts his stylus down and locks the screen of his tablet, just to give himself time to think over his words. “You know why, Will. I screwed up. This is the only way I get to stay.”

 

“It’s fucking ridiculous. You should be out there. With us.” Will swallows. “With me.”

 

Benji can’t look at him. He twists a piece of scrap paper in his fingers.

 

“Benji, I. I love, you.”

 

“I know,” Benji says, sounding miserable.

 

Will frowns at him. “What?”

 

“No, I –” Shit. “I didn’t mean, I – Ethan told me.”

 

“Oh, did he?” The tic in Will’s left cheek suggests creatively murderous thoughts involving their illustrious – and quite nosy – group leader. Well, Jane’ and Will’s group leader. After all, he’s not…he’s not a field agent anymore.

 

He’s just a techie. Again.

 

Benji clears his throat as he holds out his hands in a placating fashion. “Look, it doesn’t matter, okay?”

 

Will’s laugh is ugly. “My feelings don’t matter?”

 

“No!” Benji exclaims, alarmed. “I mean, yes! Of course they do. It’s – Will, it’s mutual.”

 

It takes about a minute for Will to close his mouth with a snap. “You couldn’t have opened with that?”

 

Even he can’t help but smile. “It’s not what we’re supposed to be discussing, Will.”

 

“But it’s related!” Will’s fingers are warm and slightly damp as they close on Benji’s wrists. “Just, just tell me the truth, okay? Tell me that – tell me why you’re letting them do this.”

 

“I’m not letting them do anything. I chose this.” Benji shivers when Will’s thumbs (unconsciously?) start stroking his skin. “I don’t…I don’t want to leave the IMF.”

 

_I don’t want to leave you_.

 

“But –”

 

“Will, please. Please.” Benji flips his hands in Will’s grip so he can manoeuvre their hands palm-to-palm. “Can’t we just leave this? There are things we can’t fight, and even if we could fight this, I don’t want to. Can’t you respect that?”

 

Will is silent for a long time. He stares at the table, chewing the inside of his lip as he thinks deeply. Benji watches him and tries to quell the panic growing inside him. He thinks he’s doing a good job of staying calm, especially when Will gently pulls away and stands up. He doesn’t, however, look up at Will. Watching the man leave will dash whatever control he has left.

 

God, had he done the right thing?

 

Benji hears the lock slide into place.

 

He only just manages to draw in a breath before Will hauls him to his feet. Will’s fingers are wrinkling the collar of his shirt, and he glares at Benji with his lips pursed. Benji tries to say something to fill in the silence, but his usual supply of chatter is missing. He can do nothing but meet Will’s gaze, can’t help but wonder at the fact that he’d do _anything_ for this man, if he asked.

 

Will’s breath on his face is light and hot. Locking his arms around Will’s waist is familiar, and _right_. They’d shared kisses before, but this is different. The taste of awareness is sweet and heady. Painful, even.

 

Benji knows everything’s changed now. He knows that they’ll get to see each other very rarely. He knows that he’s to be stuck behind a computer while Will works in the field. He knows that one day he might be informed of a fatality.

 

But he also knows that, right now, Will is kissing him deeply enough to make him dizzy. He knows that they’re in his office in the main building with Will’s trousers around his ankles and Benji’s back on his desk. He knows that whatever the obstacle, they’d get through it.

 

They’d survived worse.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm lying a little when I say that this is the end. Because, thanks to Erin, you all get an alternate storyline. A sort of DVD extra, if you will. And it won't be angsty, I promise. I can torture the boys only so much.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this story wasn't too hard on your eyes =) Thanks for sticking with it all the same.


End file.
